


Just A Hug

by DragonWinglet



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6886507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonWinglet/pseuds/DragonWinglet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew he couldn’t complain. His best friend didn’t have parents. Roy didn’t either – and he didn’t get along with Ollie. Kaldur’s father was a supervillain for god’s sake! In what universe did he have room to complain?! So instead he suffered through the abuse. When he can't sleep, hoever, he just wants to talk to his Best friend. What comes out of that? Warning: Implied Child Abuse, and sad Wallys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Hug

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all. I'm a terrible person. Don't sue me.  
> Warning: Illusions to Child Abuse.  
> I no own.

The West household was… miserable at best. At least it was for Wallace West. It had always been that way. For some reason, apparently, his parents hadn’t thought that having a kid would mean actually loving and nurturing that child. Of course, that led to him having to pull the short straw of life. In other words, his life was shit. 

He knew he couldn’t complain. His best friend didn’t have parents. Roy didn’t either – and he didn’t get along with Ollie. Kaldur’s father was a supervillain for god’s sake! In what universe did he have room to complain?! So instead he suffered through it. He knew Robin knew. He knew at least some of it. Batman did as well – but his uncle didn’t. And he liked to keep it that way. When people started asking questions, his father got nicer on the outside – but the beatings got worse. If the Dynamic Duo knew the extent of these beatings, Wally knew they wouldn’t hesitate to do anything. 

And even though he knew he couldn’t complain, he still cried himself to sleep at night. 

Tonight was no different. Except… the crying didn’t cave into the regular relief of sleep. Instead, he lay still, staring at the ceiling until he ran out of tears. He was tired but he couldn’t sleep.

Wally West was exhausted. 

He stood up, and the movement seemed to shake more tears from his eyes, dispite him being sure that he was out of them. His hands shook as he reached for his doorknob, wincing as the movement irritated the freshly formed bruises. He hadn’t changed before he collapsed into his bed. He didn’t change once he got up. The thought didn’t cross his head. He started to run, but with an almost inaudible cry of pain, he collapsed instead. He got up and trudged slowly to the zeta-tube. 

He knew he was limping. That his detective-best-friend would notice it. 

He didn’t care, instead pulling out the emergency override that Robin had given him, the override that would allow him to get into the Batcave without having to have either Batman or Robin’s permission first. It red his retinas, then the override chip he put into it, and then he must have passed out because when he opened his eyes, he was staring into the cold blue eyes of Bruce Wayne. 

“—allice, what happened?” His voice wasn’t the gravelly affectation that he used when he was Batman, and Wally squinted at him for a moment. 

“I… I was just in the Zeta Tube…” He trailed off, his mind moving sluggishly, trying to put together what had happened. Bruce helped him to stand. 

“You fell unconscious. Appeared here.” The blue eyes narrowed, but Bruce seemed to decide not to ask what had happened. Instead he slowly helped Wally to his feet. 

“I… okay,” he said lamely, sighing as he remembered why he was here. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just… ugh. Nevermind. I’m kind of dumb.” His words began moving more quickly as he spoke, and he hung his head, now in a standing position thanks to Bruce’s help. 

“Does it have something to do with that?” the older man replied, gesturing to his aching and probably swollen green eye. Wally blinked dumbly. 

“Uhh… Would you believe me if I told you no?” he asked, and affected a smile that felt wrong to himself. The older man shook his head, a single eyebrow raised. He took a step back now that the younger speedster was supporting himself. He took in every injury in the time it took the redhead to teeter without the extra support. By the time Bruce caught him, he’d guessed that the younger one had a sprained knee, favoring that leg. He seemed uncomfortable in his own skin, holding his arms away from is skin. His balance seemed off, and his eyes darted nervously around. There were several minor scrapes and bruises along his arms, neck and face, and he seemed disoriented and confused. There were, of course, the dried tear tracks along his face that he seemed not to care about. 

Bruce had known about the abuse. He didn’t think it was this bad. He had been waiting for Wally to step forward, he knew that often abuse got worse if someone else involved. 

Wally whimpered slightly as Bruce lunged toward him, as if he was expecting something significantly more painful than to be caught. 

Still supporting the upset boy, whose tears had started again, Bruce reached forward and pressed a button on the console in front of him. Alfred’s voice was as collected as anything else he’d heard – despite having just been woken up. 

“Yes, Master Bruce?” he asked, a hardly-there edge to his voice when he heard Wally’s barely-suppressed sobs. 

“I need your help. Bring Dick.” The words were barely out of his mouth before Wally protested. 

“No! You don’t need to wake him up it’s not really that bad and please I can just go home I don’t even know why I came here I just couldn’t sleep and…” He trailed off at the look on Bruce’s face, who was staring at him with a mizture of sympathy and concern – a mixture that he’d never seen on the Dark Knight’s face before. 

“Dick’s already coming. You need to sit. Alfred is going to check you out.” His voice was still steady and firm dispite the look on his face. Before Wally could object anymore, however, there was the soft noise of running bare feet. Dick stood in front of him in a pair of sweats and a loose tee-shirt, eyes wide with worry. 

“Walls! Are you okay?” It didn’t take a genius to tell that he was scared, and the pitch of his voice translated instead as irritation to Wally. He winced and scrambled to his feet. 

“I-I’m sorry! I can leave!” but as he tried to run, he tripped and sprawled on the ground. Instead of standing, he just curled into a ball, no longer able to suppress the sobs. A gentle hand landed on his back, reminding him of his uncle, and he looked up. Dick was kneeling over him, breathing deeply, worry still on his face. 

“I’m sorry Walls. I don’t want you to leave. Hang out here for a bit so Al can fix you up.” The redhead just nodded slowly, looking defeated, tears still falling. Alfred had been standing behind him, and he began looking at the wounds while Bruce stood behind him, watching steadily. Dick looked like he wanted to cry as every injury was revealed, but he was holding it in. He rubbed circles on his best friend’s back, speaking to him slowly, soothingly. 

His tears slowly stopped as Alfred wrapped his knee. One cut in his scalp, bleeding unnoticed in the commotion, needed a handful of stitches. 

Bruce sat next to him as the treatment continued, keeping a respectful distance. Wally yawned. 

“I’m going to call Barry,” he said, and Wally forgot all tiredness. He leapt to his feet, gasping in pain, and not noticing his knee hitting Alfred. The butler didn’t say anything. 

“No. No. You can’t do that. Please don’t!!” His breathing started coming in short gasps as he looked panicked around the room. “I’ll go home, I’ll be fine!” What would his uncle think if he found out that he let his dad do this? Wally was supposed to be the hero, not the victim.

Dick placed a hand on Wally’s shoulder. The redhead almost immediately leaned into it. 

“Please. We need someone to look after you.” Wally started, before a wave of dizziness took over him. 

“Wallace. You have a concussion. You need to sit.” Alfred’s voice was soothing and firm at the same time when he took the younger boy’s hand, leading him to the bed in the Batcave’s med bay. Rubbed at his forehead for a moment before Dick slapped his hand away. 

“You’ll make it worse.” 

“Can’t I just go home?” he asked, ignoring the entire interaction that had just happened. Dick shook his head vehemently as Bruce spoke again. 

“Wally, I can’t let you do that. And do you really want to?” Wally yawned again, despite his attempts to stave off the tiredness. 

“I…” Wally looked at Dick, the younger boy’s blue eyes wild with worry, and sighed. “No. But—“ 

“No buts!” Dick said, louder than he’d intended to, lowering his voice as Wally winced. “We’re calling Barry and he’s going to take care of you while Bruce and I visit—“He cut himself off at a hard look from the aforementioned guardian. 

Wally wanted to ask about what Dick had said, but he was just too tired. Bruce had walked from the room, pulling up the League’s emergency communication on the computer in the Cave, and Dick poked him in the side, in between bruises. 

Wally wasn’t quite sure when he’d taken his shirt off, but it was probably when Alfred had examined him. 

“Hey, Walls, don’t fall asleep. You have a concussion.” Wally mumbles something, leaning his head on his best friend’s shoulder. “Seriously Wally! Stay awake!” The bruises were already turning the sickly yellow color that meant they were healing. Dick shoved his side. Hard. 

“Hey!” he said loudly, then winced at his own volume. 

“Sorry.” Dick said, but he looked nothing like it. 

“Sure you are,” he said, tiredly, suddenly reminded of all of the wounds on his side. Suddenly, he looked up, a delicious smell permeating the room. 

“Freshly baked,” Alfred said, smiling at Wally. He dived on them, ignoring the burning in his tongue as he ate. He was suddenly aware of the sharp pain his split lip brought, then shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. Dick laughed, shaking his head. 

“There should be more coming.” 

Then there were strong arms surrounding him, a voice choking on apologies that he could abrely understand they were said to fast. He smiled at the familiar smell of his uncle, closing his eyes and ignoring the pain that came with the hug. 

Finally, with his uncle’s arms around him and his best friend’s hand on his back, the taste of Alfred’s chocolate chip cookies still on his tongue, he sighed, burying his face into Barry’s chest. His tears had started again, but no one could see. 

Maybe it would get worse but what he really needed when he’d left his bed that night was a hug – and that’s exactly what he got.

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone should hug sad Wallys. There you go.  
> Let me know if you want a sequel~!  
> ~Winglet


End file.
